Misery Loves Company
by E. M. Morning
Summary: Max's journey into vampirism and to Santa Carla.
1. Chapter One

**I'm writing an author note on top- how awkward! I just wanted to say if you have not read my one-shot "Before the Night Falls" you should probably go do so before reading this, because there are quite a few references from there.**

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><p>Misery Loves Company<p>

Chapter One

The devil can appear in a variety of forms. To one person he may show himself as a horned beast with hooves and the torso of a man. To another the trickster may present himself as a cunning snake with an offering of a gift of fruit. Evil has a habit of sneaking into your life when you least suspect it, often in form of the unknown. Throughout his early life, Max has had a few encounters with evil. They were never much; just a nod to a casual acquaintance as passes on through his life. It was not until he was older did Max make his first face to face encounter with the devil.

It was a gloomy night. A greasy drizzle fell down from the sky, slickening the streets and all of those who dared to walk them. Despite the poor weather conditions, Max decided to take a walk. It was a habit that he had picked up shortly after the loss of his wife and young daughter. The consistency of the pace and the night air helps clear the thoughts that clutter in mind during the daytime hours, and he would not let any amount of water steal his temporary peace. There are few others out on this dreary night; mostly drunken men that have stumbled out of the bars and stagger off into the dark in search of their homes. Max pays no attention to them as he passes. His thoughts are elsewhere, with his crumbling estate and the blond curls at the ends of his deceased daughter's hair. This world has no use to him now. It has already failed him, and Max shall return the favor one way or another.

As he approaches the short wooden bridge that connects the two sides of town over a small river, Max notices a shadowy figure. It appears to be feminine in shape with long, full skirts flowing out from a narrowed waist. The figure, whoever it may be, looks rather short, even from the distance he stands. The closer Max comes to the shadow, the more details he can make out. It is indeed a woman, a young one, perhaps even a girl judging by her petite stature. Her dress is a powder blue, nearly looking illuminated against her pale skin. From a ways away, the dress appears to be finely made and in the latest style, but as he draws nearer to the girl, Max can see that this is not true. Even a commoner could see that, close up; it is only a knock off of what the wealthier young ladies might wear. Max can tell what this woman is. It was quite obvious as soon as he got a better look at her dress. She is the type of girl his wife would scoff at when they passed them on their evenings out in town. This is a lady of the night; a prostitute.

Max has no interest in this girl and what favors she may offer. Even in his darkest of despairs, he will not allow himself to sink to the level of paying for affection, especially from a woman so poorly disguised. The girl does not seem to notice him, though, and hopefully he will be able to pass without any interruptions. She stands on the bridge, facing outwards as she watches the raindrops smack the river below. Her expression is one of peace, perhaps even happiness. The girl holds no umbrella nor wears no coat to protect her from the rain. She is completely exposed to the elements, but it does not seem to bother her in the least. Max tries his best to avoid making any sort of eye contact with her as they cross paths. But the girl looks up and catches his eye.

"Good evening, Sir," she says. Her voice is high and sharp like a bird. Even as she speaks those simple words, there is a hint of laughter in her tone, like a naughty child trying her best not to reveal the prank she is planning. Max pauses a moment to return the greeting since, after all, he is a gentleman. Now that he is up close, he can see that this woman is not actually a woman; she is indeed a girl, one that appears to be too young to be out alone so late at night. Her face is round of soft like a child's, but there is something in her violet-blue eyes that sharpens her appearance. The fabric of her dress is soaked and clings tightly to her body. The girl is so thin that she looks to be nearly starved just like many of the other working class girls.

"Good evening," Max echoes back. He is a bit taken aback by the sound of his own voice. It has been days since he has spoken more than a few words, possibly even a week, and that was only to give simple answers to the servants when they sought his advice. The girl smiles prettily up at him, a shy smile that barely reveals her teeth. Perhaps she is not a prostitute, Max tells himself. She seems much too innocent to be one of those sorts of people. "I don't mean to be rude, but may I ask you what you are doing out at this time of night?" he asks.

The corners of the girl's lips twitched as tried to hold back her growing grin. "Only if I may ask you the same," she replies.

Max frowns at her boldness. How dare this girl, especially one of her status, question his personal matters? The young lady continues to look up at him, waiting for an answer. Her eyes are wide with question and a hint of amusement at Max's outward disapproval. "I am out for a walk."

"At night?" the inquisitive girl asks.

"It is a good time to clear the head," Max replies. "It is a lot less hectic than the day hours."

The girl nods as she turns to look out at the river once more. "I know what you mean." She sighs wistfully as she tilts her face up towards the heavens. The rain continues to pour down on her, flattening her dark curls. "I just adore the rain," she says, turning towards Max. "Don't you?"

He shrugs indifferently.

"Well," she says with a giggle. "You sure did pick an awful time for a walk, didn't you?"

Max stares at the young girl. There is something off about her, something he cannot quite put his finger on.

"Would you mind if I join you?" she asks.

"It is rather late," Max says. "Don't you think it would be best if you returning home soon?"

The girl releases another dramatic sigh. "Oh, home," she huffs. "I do not want to back there just yet. It is so stuffy and boring! And the night is still young; there will be plenty of time to rest later. Please, Sir?" she begs. "Please give me this one favor? I am so lonely and it is ever so difficult to find good company in this town. I promise to not be too much of a bother."

Max considers her proposition. It has been days since he has talked to anyone outside of the house, and he could certainly use the company. However, if this girl tries to trick him into any of her services, he will dump in the streets like a drowning sewer rat. Max nods and continues on his walk without saying another word. The girl quickly follows along, trying her best to keep up with the man's long strides. She is much smaller than him, not even coming up to his shoulders.

"You really should not travel alone," Max says as they walk further down the street. "It is not safe for a lady to be out at night, especially one of your age. How old are you, if you do not mind me asking?"

The girl glances up at him and grins widely. "Three hundred and twenty one."

Max smiles politely at her joke. "You do not look a day over fifteen," he replies in a playful tone.

Her eyes shimmer in the hazy street lamps. "Seventeen actually," she says. "My name is Eloise, by the way."

"Why, that is a lovely name."

Eloise places a pale, dainty hand over her mouth as she giggles. "Thank you, Sir. My father picked it out. He got it from a prostitute he once met while he was visiting France."

Max coughs, unsure of how to reply to that. "Well," he awkwardly starts.

"Oh, don't worry! It was before he met my mother, long before that."

"I suppose that is good."

Eloise laughs again. "Did you believe me?" she asks, skipping ahead a few steps. "You did, didn't you? You did; I could tell by that funny look on your face!"

"Yes," Max says. He wears a stressed smile on his face, trying his best to remain polite. "You fooled me."

She turns around, her blue skirts swirling about her ankles, and starts to backwards. "What is your name?"

"I am Max."

"Max," Eloise repeats thoughtfully. "That is a wonderful name! Max! What are you doing out here, Max?"

"I believe I already told you; I am out for a walk."

"Yes, of course. But why?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't know?" Eloise parrots back. "How can a man go out for a walk at night, and in the rain, might I add, and have no sort of idea as of why? Surely there is a reason!"

Max becomes uncomfortable with the girl's questions. He is used to being the one doing the interrogating; it is not often he is the one that must come up with the answers. "I could ask the same to you," he replies, sharply. "I cannot think of good business a young woman could have out at night alone."

Eloise's playful smile quickly fades into a scowl. "Are you implying something?" she demands. She ceases walking, causing Max to do the same, and places two angry hands on her hips. "You know, all of you upper class men are the same! You are so uppity and full of yourselves; it is a wonder you can see where are going with your nose so high in the air! Here I go and offer you some company and all you do is insult me! And to think I felt sorry for you when I saw that pathetic look on your face, all mopey and sad! Perhaps I should just leave your miseries." She lifts up her blue skirts a little and begins to walk away in sharp, quick steps. "Good evening, Sir."

Max turns to watch the small girl walk off. He begins to feel guilty for upsetting her and begins to follow in pursuit. "Eloise, wait!"

Eloise pauses and looks over her narrow shoulder. "What do you want?" she asks once Max has caught up.

"I would like to apologize," Max says. "I truly am sorry. This past year has not been the best for me, and, well, let's just say I have not been myself."

"I am sure you haven't."

Max sighs. "Would you please forgive me, Miss Eloise?"

"Well," she says, eyeing him over. "I suppose I could, but it will require something."

Oh no, Max says to himself. Now she has done it; she will now try to rope him into her immoral services. "I-."

"I should like a drink," Eloise says. She begins walking back into the direction of the town, leaving Max to once again trying to keep up with her. "I am awfully chilly and there is a nice little pub not too far from here." She links her arm into Max's and drags him along.

Max looks down at the girl. She is an odd little thing, so loud and pushy compared to the women he is accustomed in being in company of. "If you insist."

"I do. Come along now; it is not too far from here!"

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><p>Eloise takes him to a side of town that Max has not ventured to often. They stop at a small, brick building. Even through the dark of night, it is evident it is not the cleanest of places, and Max fears the inside will be not much better. A sign reading <em>The Red Door<em> hangs above the entrance, which has been painted black. Max looks from the sign to the actual door, feeling puzzled.

"It was red once," Eloise begins to explain. "The original one got destroyed in a nasty bar fight. It was awful and rather exciting too! People do the most amusing things when they are drunk! Murray, he owns this place, just hasn't painted the new one yet."

"Oh."

"It's been nearly two months now; I doubt he ever will! Come on now, we can't spend all night staring at a door!" Eloise takes Max's hand and pulls him inside.

It is not much different than he expected, certainly not what he is used to. It is small, but nearly cozy in an odd sort of way. The single room is dimly lit, helping hide the lack of upkeep. Just standing in there gives Max the urge to bathe. The occupants are all from the working class, grimy and worn after a long day of work. They sit at the bar, slumped over their drinks as they talk amongst themselves. A small group of rowdy young men sit at a table with two factory girls. They drink and tell loud, crude jokes while their female campaigns quietly sit, trying their best to pretend to be offended. Max looks around the room and feels ready to run right out of there, but before he gets the chance, Eloise drags him towards the counter.

"You can sit here," she says, pointing to a wooden stool. Max sits down and Eloise takes the seat next to him. "Hello, Murray!"

A bald headed man slowly turns around to face her. His skin is rugged and he does not appear to be too happy with something. "Miss Eloise," he says with a nod. "Can I get you something?"

"Do you have coffee?" She turns to face Max. "I don't drink alcohol," Eloise says, folding her hands and placing them on the counter. "I can't stand it. What would you like?"

"Oh," Max says. He cannot think of anything he would like to be served from this place. "I don't know."

Eloise giggles. "Do you know anything? Could you get him a coffee too, Murray?"

Murray nods again and begins to prepare the drinks. Neither Eloise nor Max uttered a word while they waited for their coffees. Max continued to observe his surroundings trying his best to keep it secretive. This has been such a strange night, he had said to himself. How is it that ever ended up here?

"So," Eloise says once they received their beverages. She takes a small sip of the dark liquid and wrinkles her nose. Max is tempted to do the same once the bitter taste hits his mouth, but manages to keep his composure. "What is it that has made you be not yourself?"

Max drinks a little more of his coffee. It is in dire need of sugar or some other sort of sweetener, but he does not dare to ask the grumpy looking man for any. "It's a rather long story."

"Oh, do tell! I love hearing stories!"

"Well," Max says, slowly. "You see, last year I lost both my wife and daughter. Now my business is not doing so well and-." He sighs. "My whole world seems to be falling apart."

"That is not a very long story."

Max smiles softly. "I suppose it is not."

"How did they die?" Eloise asks. She takes a sniff at her coffee and shakes her head. "I don't really like coffee either."

"My daughter, Suzette, drowned during a skating accident. Marjorie died shortly after. She basically gave up living and fell apart."

"How old was your daughter?"

"Five."

The girl's violet-blue eyes expand in shock. "How tragic!" she exclaims. "Was she only your child?"

"No," Max replies. "I have a son. He's around your age."

"How terrible for you," Eloise says, taking another sip of coffee. "So is that why you were out tonight? Were you trying to walk away from it all?"

"Well, not really. I was mostly trying to figure out what I am supposed to do now. I cannot think at all in that house anymore."

"And what are you going to do?"

Max sighs. Just thinking about the question makes him feel defeated. "I don't know," he admits. "Everything I have spent my whole life working to get is nearly gone. If only-." He trails off.

Eloise cocks her head to the side in question. "If only what?"

"If only I had more time," Max says, tiredly. "I am much too old to start all over again."

"More time," she echoes. A mischievous light flashes in her eyes. "There is always more time."

"No," Max says with a sad smile. "Not nearly enough."

"Of course there is! If you could live forever-."

"That is not possible. Everything must come to an end."

"Does it?"

He shudders under the intense grin the girl is giving him. "Yes."

Eloise leans in close towards Max to a length that makes him uncomfortable. "Suppose you could live forever," she says, lowering her voice to an excited whisper so that no one else may hear. "What would you give to live forever?"

"What?"

"What would you pay for immortality? It is possible, you know."

Max shifts away from the dark haired girl. "I don't-."

"Think about it," Eloise says. She sets her cup on the bar counter and hops off of the stool. "Sleep on the thought, and if you decide you truly want to live forever, come find me tomorrow night around midnight. I will be waiting at the bridge again."

"What? What are you-."

"It is possible," Eloise repeats before heading for the door. Just as she is about to leave, Eloise turn around one last time and waves at Max, grinning, and then disappears into the night. Max sits at the counter with his coffee in hand, staring at the closed, trying to piece his thoughts together.

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><p><strong>Well, that was a rather boring start! It was short too, but at least it is a start! I promise that it will get more interesting, or at least that is what I hope! I have been planning this out for quite some time now, and I am happy to get it started. Now only if I could get it to work right. <strong>


	2. Chapter Two

Misery Loves Company

Chapter Two

Max had spent most of the night and quite a bit of the day that followed thinking about that strange Eloise and the words she left him with. She had promised him the possibility of immortality and implied that she could provide it. He had doubts, of course. A random street girl could not be trusted. She could be after this money, coming up with some elaborate scheme to take every penny that he had left. The theory seemed to be rather farfetched, but so was the previous night. It all seemed to be more dream than reality; the bridge, the giddy, rain soaked girl in blue that drug him to some low-life bar. It was so off from his routine life, so out of place that it was quite possible that it was only a strange dream rather than an actual event.

But still, Max wondered about girl with the blue dress and her promise for eternal life. All he had to do was meet this Eloise at the same bridge they had first crossed paths. He does not have to accept her offer, whatever it may be. If the deal seems to be too fishy, he can easily leave and forget about the girl and the whole incident. And if it did work out? Well…

He could live forever.

And what is the price for immortality? Max wonders.

Does it matter? Everlasting life means everlasting possibilities to make up for what had been lost. He could start over his business, making sure it is nothing short of perfection. He could create a new, more sufficient family that will not run his life to ruins or disappoint him. He could…

Well, Max could do whatever he pleased if he could live forever. No aging and no death means no chances of losing it all and having to start over again. He could keep trying to reach perfect without any major interruptions; there cannot possibly be a downside to that, especially compared to all of the negativities that come along with a relatively short, mortal life. So it was set; Max will meet this Eloise again and she will grant him the gift of immortality, if the price is within his standards.

By the time day faded into night, the weather had started to clear up. It no longer rained, but a thick layer of humidity weighed heavily in the air. It was nearly half past midnight before all of the servants had gone to bed and Max was able to finally leave the house without question. Before going downstairs, he paused to look into his son's bedroom. Even in his sleep, the young man appeared to be restless. In that moment a creeping feeling leaked of Max's brain, telling him this may very well be the last time he sees his son. Despite his internal warning, Max left the comfort of his home for the insecurity of the night. He could not waste a second longer; Eloise was waiting for him as well as his chance to set things right.

The streets are abnormal quiet, even for this time of the evening. A sense of apprehension took a hold of his nerves. He looks about his surroundings, searching for any signs of hidden danger amongst the nothing. He makes it to the bridge without trouble. Though the thick night air, Max spots a luminous yellow figure up ahead, glowing underneath the lamp light. It does not take him long to recognize pale face that was nearly hidden by a mass of dark curls.

"I knew you would come!" Eloise exclaims as Max walks up to her.

"Yes," he replies blandly. "Before you mentioned something about possibly being able to-."

"That already? Aren't you even going to ask me how I am doing?" Eloise sighs. She shakes her head in disappointment, her curls smacking against her cheeks. "You men are all the same; only worrying about what you can get, not how other people are. To be honest I find it to be quite rude."

"I'm sorry," Max quickly apologizes. "How are you this evening, Miss Eloise?"

"Just lovely!" she answers, bouncing on her heels as she speaks. "And how are you, Max?"

"Fine."

"See! That is how a proper conversation is started. Come along now and I will tell you what you want to know." She links her arm to Max's and leads him off down the street.

"Where are we going?" he asks. They have traveled further into town with no obvious destination. The path they take brings them further and further from civilizations, leading them to the outskirts of a forest.

"We need a much more private place to converse," Eloise explains. "There are too many ears about." They pause a moment to examine the shadowy, looming trees. She takes a step forward, only to have Max pull her back.

"I don't believe this is the best of ideas," he says.

Eloise turns her face upwards towards her. Her eyes are wide with mock innocence. "Why not?"

"The woods is not a very save place at night; especially not safe for a lady."

"Nonsense!" She takes another step forward and drags Max forward. He is a bit surprised by the strength of the small girl. "There is nothing in here that is more dangerous than us. Besides, we will only be in here for a moment or so. Well, unless some mad thief runs out at us and bludgeons us to death. Then I suppose we may have to stay a bit longer!" Eloise giggles at her statement. Max chuckles awkwardly along, unable to find the humor in being bludgeoned to death.

They stop midway into the forest. Eloise drops Max's arm and leaves him to examine a tree. She removes her white gloves, allowing them to drop to the ground. She runs a delicate hand over the course bark. "These trees are old. Just imagine the stories they have to tell us."

Max watches as the girl presses the side of her face up against the trunk as if she is about to hug it. "Yes," he says. "I suppose it would be interesting if trees could speak."

"Of course they can." Her blue eyes slid over towards Max. "Perhaps you cannot understand their language."

Max smiles. "No, am pretty sure they cannot speak."

"Why?"

"Well, they are not living; not truly, in a way like people or even animals."

Eloise releases the tree. "And what makes something truly living?" she asks, her head cocked in curiosity.

"I suppose to be truly alive one would require emotions and a brain. And a heart, of course."

"I don't have a heart," Eloise says suddenly. Her smile is small, nearly shy, but Max can detect a hint of cruelty behind the playful exterior. "Does that mean I am not living?" She steps towards her companion, stopping so close that they are nearly toe to toe. Max looks down as the young woman as she gently takes his hand into her own and presses their palms together. Her skin feels as cool and lifeless as a marble statue.

"Do I feel alive?" she asks. She looks upwards, waiting for an answer. Her eyes glisten again and Max can almost hear her giggle.

"Clearly," he says. "You would not be able to talk or move or exist if you were not."

"Yes." Eloise pauses to examine his hand a moment longer before releasing it. "Clearly. So, Max, you want me to teach you the ways of the immortal." He nods. "And why I should I help you?"

"I need more time," Max answers. He quickly adds, "And you seem like such a nice girl; I doubt that you would leave a poor man like myself in such great need."

Eloise blinks before breaking into a fit of hysterics. She throws her head back, howling laughter at the moon. "Oh, Max, you are such a fool," she says once she is able to calm herself. "But I do like you." She turns towards the tree, once again busying herself with tracing the patterns of the bark. Eloise scratches at the surface of the tree with her long nail. "Would you believe that the only thing that is needed to become immortal is just a bit of blood? Blood!" Eloise giggles at the word. "The very thing that can kill a person can make them live forever."

Max stares at her, feeling confused. "I am not sure what you mean."

She flicks the bark out from under her fingernail. "Do you really think I am a nice girl, Max?"

"Yes, of course."

Yellow fabric swirls as Eloise swiftly turns around. Her violet blue eyes have been replaced with orange-red orbs, glowing as dangerously in the dark night. The soft, childlike curves of her face have sharpened. A pair of pointed fangs protrudes from her mouth, ripping at her pretty smile. Max releases a shuddering gasp at the sight of the monster before him. "How about now?" Eloise asks. "Do you still think I'm a nice girl?" Max takes a step back and Eloise falls into another fit of laughter. She places a hand to her chest, attempting to regain composure. "You won't run, Max. I know you won't. You may be a little on the slow side, but I know you are not that foolish."

Max manages to summon enough courage to speak. "What are you?" he demands.

"I am immortal," she says. "I am a being of the night. Doesn't that sound romantic?" Eloise takes her wrist to her mouth and bites deeply into the flesh. A hungry, animal-like growl erupts in her throat as she tears at the skin. Max flinches at the sound, but cannot will himself to move. Dark crimson bubbles up from the wound, staining the pale skin. "Do you still want to be immortal, Max? Would you like to be as I am?"

"Y-You're a monster!"

Eloise pouts. "That is a terrible thing to say to a lady! You have hurt my feelings, Max. And you were the one who wanted to be immortal!" She walks towards Max. Her speed is so incredible that he does not manage to follow her movement. Eloise grins and holds out her bleeding wrist towards him. "Now drink, if you dare."

"I-I can't."

"Of course you can! Just drink!" She pushes her bleed wrist closer up towards Max's lips. "I won't force you, of course. It is your decision. But remember you are the one who asked for this. You are the one who wants this; it is why you did not run away in terror, it is why you followed me into the woods. Your desire was obvious before you even spoke of it. You now know the truth, and there is no turning back."

Max slowly reaches forward to grab the thin wrist.

"Drink," Eloise calmly reassures him.

"What will it do?"

Eloise sighs loudly. "I have already told you! How many times must we go over this? It will give you life. You are the one who asked to become immortal and I have told you how. Now make your move; I don't have all night!"

Max holds tight onto the girl's cold, pale arm, still debating his next move. He stares at dark liquid that seeps from the gaping wound. It calls to him in a gargled voice, tempting him to drink. Eloise smiles up at him, the tips of her fangs gently scraping against the soft pink of her lips. Her fiery eyes, mixed with malice and innocence, peak up from stray curls that fallen into her eyes. "It's alright," she says in a soothing manner. "Death will not come to you."

It was all that he needed, that last little piece of reassurance, and even without it Max believed that he would have given in. He has nothing to lose, after all. He may only benefit from this opportunity, this rare gift that has been bestowed upon him no matter how hefty the price tag may be. A man, especially a desperate man, will do whatever is in his power to attain what he desires and Max desires life. Without another thought, he presses Eloise's wrist to his mouth. He lightly presses his tongue into the blood, slowly taking it in. Right away he can tell this is not ordinary blood. It tastes different and there is a strange odor to it, something ancient and knowing like an old, forgotten book. It is oddly comforting, far from the urgent, sick feeling the smell of mortal blood brings. Although he is well aware that he is drinking the blood right out of the body of a young woman, Max does not care. He takes in more, pressing the wrist further into his mouth, sucking harder and with more urgency to make sure he can consume in every possible drop.

From the very first drop, he could feel the changes taking place. The new blood flowed into his system. It entered his veins, attacking his human blood. They battle, and though humanity fights valiantly against this unnatural force, it will not win. It pushes back, trying to keep its sinful enemy out, but the effort quickly falls apart as the new blood continues to enter. Humanity is losing, and in a way, it allows itself to be conquered; it is drawn to the evil that it despises, as is all things that are human.

Eloise began to sink to her knees, pulling Max down with her. She sits upon the ground, trying her best to sit up right as the man continues to suck away at her self-inflicted wound. Her giggles echoes throughout the darkness of the night, loud, maniacal laughter that bounce against the ancient trees and fills the air. She cannot calm herself, nor does she wish too. This is all too much fun, far more she has had in a long while. Soon she will have the company that she has desired for so long. Her head starts to feel light with all of the hysterics and blood loss. It is enough; she has done her job.

"You may stop now," Eloise says, trying to pull herself free. Max is not about to give up; the blood is far too addicting to let go. He holds fast and resists Eloise's efforts. "I said stop!" She yanks again, this time with more force. She topples onto the cool grass with Max following after her. A dark smear of crimson stains his lips. He lies on the grass, staring at the tree tops above. Eloise gives her wound a quick lick, lapping up her own blood.

"Men are such pigs," she huffs. "There is never enough for them; they have no control over their desires. It is pathetic, really." She glances over at Max. "Are you alright?"

Max does not reply. He continues to stare blankly up at the forest above him, his mouth hanging open. He has not moved, but he is now in a completely different world, one where the surroundings are similar, but at the same time, nothing appears to be the same. The filth from his mortal life that had contaminated his eyes has been washed away by the new blood, revealing a much clearer world. There is so much more colours that are nameless to the human mind, so much detail that can be seen even in the darkest hours of the night. It seems to be impossible that they could have possibly been there before. Eloise's chirping voices fully fills his ears as does many other sounds that are too far off for him to normal hear. Everything seems to be closer, so much more reachable now that he is fully cleansed of the grim of humanity.

"Are you alright?" Eloise asks again as she brings herself into a sitting position. She pokes Max with her thin, boney finger. Her face has returned to its normal softness and the demons have left her eyes. She shakes at Max's shoulder, willing him to reply. "Goodness!" she says with a giggle. "You did not do nearly as well as I thought you would. Just look at you with your mouth hanging open like that; you would make a perfect fish!" She jabs at him again. "Max? You should get up now; I am becoming rather bored with this."

Still, he does not move. Eloise sighs miserably as she flops back down onto the grass. "Perhaps I have killed him. Humans are disgustingly fragile," she says to herself. "I should have known not to take someone so old."

Max begins to stir. He sits up and continues to look at the world around him, still lost in a daze. He does not register the girl sitting next to him until she speaks.

"It's about time you get up!"

He slowly turns his head towards her. Even Eloise looks diffrent through his new set of eyes. The pale, worn yellow fabric of her dress has been transformed into a perfect shade of canary yellow. Her hair has also changed, turning as deep and dark as an endless pit. Small flecks of red are scattered around the pupil, existing proof of the demon that occupies her body. He can see the slightest twitch of her the muscles in her face as she studies him.

"What are you doing?" Eloise asks.

Max listens to her voice, allowing it to echo throughout his head. The sound fascinates him; he has never heard anyone speak so clearly before. She still sounds like Eloise, still as high and as melodic as a bird's song, but she sounds much closer now as if she is speaking directly into his ear.

"It is all different," Max says, slowly forming his words. His own voice is barely recognizable to his own self, and this catches him off guard.

Eloise rolls her eyes as she pulls herself to her feet. "Of course it is! What were you expecting?"

"I'm not sure." He watches Eloise as she fetches her gloves from the ground. "What happened to me?"

"We went into the woods and you drank my blood," Eloise says simply. She slips one white glove onto a tiny hand. "I suppose it is safe to say this is not your average night. Well, at least for you it isn't!"

Max can still taste her blood in his mouth. Some remains on his lips, he can smell it as well as taste it and he quietly tries to get the last of it. He has drunk someone's blood, Max says to himself. It seems impossible, even with the obvious evidence, but he knows, somewhere in his mind, that it is true. "What am I?" he asks.

"You are Max."

"But I am I now the same as you?"

"Well," Eloise says as she places the second glove upon her bare hand. "Not quite, you are only half."

"Half? Half of what?"

"You are only half vampire. You shall remain that way until you make your first kill."

"Vampire," Max echoes back, quietly. Could it be? Is that what he is now? Then the other statement registers. "Kill?"

"Yes, kill. You will not become a full vampire until you murder your first human and drink his or her blood."

"I-I can't do that!"

"Of course you can!" Eloise exclaims. She grabs Max's hands and yanks him to his feet with ease. "You must! It is what we do! It is how we live, or not live since we are supposedly the undead. It is much easier than one would believe; you just need to learn how to do it properly. Oh!" Eloise claps her hands together, her eyes beaming with excitement as a new plot hatches in her mind. "That is what we will do; I will teach you how to kill! It will be your first lesson in becoming a vampire. There is still enough time left before the sun rises, I believe. Come now, Max! We must hurry!" She takes his hand and begins to pull him in the direction of civilization.

"I don't know," Max says. They are moving fast, much faster than any normal person could travel. This fact would be more of a concern to him if he had not just found out he is about to learn how to properly murder someone.

"You never know anything. Don't worry, it will be fun!"

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"You have to!"

"No!" Max slows down, trying his best wrench himself free from the girl's strong grip. Eloise releases him. She scowls as she turns to face Max and sets her hands on her hips, preparing herself for an argument. "No," he repeats.

"You must," Eloise says, sharply. "You must do as I say; I am your mother."

Max chuckles at this. "You are not my-."

"Am too! I gave you this life! I created you! I am your mother and you will follow me now!" Eloise takes Max's hand and once again leads him away, off into town to begin the first lesson.


	3. Chapter Three

Misery Loves Company

Chapter Three

Max had killed before. It had not been a human, of course, but he did know what it was like to take the life of another being and the feeling of power that came along with it. It was freighting and unnaturally enjoyable, something that even at the age of eleven that Max knew was not right. Just days after his eleventh birthday, Max's father decided that it would be the best time to teach his son how to hunt. They went out into the woods, trudging through mud in leaves in search for their prey, which would most likely be small birds or possible a deer if they got lucky. Max did not want to go. He did not understand the appeal of killing, and had no interest in knowing the process of food getting to the table, but if his father said that he must learn this skill then a hunter he shall become.

The day trip did not turn out to be the bonding experience that his father had been hoping for. Even as a child, Max had little to no interest in the outdoors, and spending hours outside seemed to be more of a punishment rather than adventure it was made out to be. They walked a long, boring while without allowing any talk, something very difficult for an eleven year old. Max tried to strike up a conversation once or twice, only to be quickly hushed.

_We need to stay quiet so we don't scare off any of the animals._

It was enough to make Max stay quiet. He figured that the sooner they found something to kill, the sooner this will be over with, and he can go back home to civilization. To keep himself from becoming entirely over taken by boredom, Max repeated his multiplication tables in his head. Math made sense to him; it had order and it is difficult to argue the results. Everything is what it is; there is an answer to everything is you do the math right, just as the world should be. What they were doing, hunting; not knowing exactly where they were going or what they were going to find and what they will do if they make the find, it was all too complicated.

Their first prey that stayed in sight long enough for Max's father to get his focus was a deer. The animal looked to be quite young, just reaching adulthood, his father stated, but it was old enough to die. The elder helped his son carefully aim the gun at the deer in which they both hoped would be a perfect shot. As he stared down the barrel of the gun, Max began to feel sorry for the poor beast. There it was, in the prime of its life, completely unaware that death stood only a short distance away, ready to strike at any moment. It seemed cowardly to kill something that is not prepared, but his father thought otherwise.

"Now!" he whispered excitedly. "Shoot it now before it gets away!"

Max kept his finger on the trigger. He was shaking; the whole world seemed to be trembling along with him. He could not bring himself to want to kill the poor animal, but he could not disappoint his father either. The best he could wish for is that he would shoot and miss. That way the deer could still get away alive, and he could say that he at least tried.

_Now!_

So Max obeyed. He closed his eyes tightly and pulled on the trigger as hard as he could. His small body jerked back at the force of the exiting bullet. A high, painful yelp pieced the air in the woods that had been peaceful a mere moment ago. His wish did not come true; the deer was still alive. Max opened his eyes just in time to see it take off. It ran a few steps before stumbling, and then collapsed on the ground. "Let's go get it," his father said. He sounded pleased, proud even. Max found this unsettling. He thought of the whole situation unsettling. He had just killed something, a real, breathing being, and he is receiving praise for it. Somehow it did not add up for him.

As they walked towards the body, Max kept repeating his multiplication tables. He said nothing, even as his father joyously babbled on, speaking nonsense of how he should be proud, that he will cherish this moment for the rest of his life. Much to Max's horror, the animal was still alive. It lay in the dirt, its eyes still wide and open with fear. There was a hole near its chest, almost close enough to kill it but fate had been cruel enough to grant the poor beast a final few moments of agony. Fresh blood seeped out of the wound, staining the sleek and shinning coat. There was a strange, raspy sound coming out of the hole the bullet left as the deer struggled to breath. It was in pain, Max saw, and he had caused it. Even killing it would have been better than this.

"Damned thing is still going," his father said. "You'll have to shoot the bastard again now."

Max could not pull his eyes away from the dying animal. "I don't want to."

"You have to."

"Why?"

"You have to put it out of its misery. It's your job."

He did have a point, Max said to himself. The best he could do now is to take away the pain by taking his life. He tried his best to not think of the deer as he once again took aim at it, and instead he continued to multiply.

_Twelve times six is seventy-two._

The deer struggled to cry out again. More blood leaked from the hole as it briefly kicked its legs.

_And twelve times seven is eighty-four._

Max brought his finger to the trigger, trying his best to keep himself steady this time.

_There is an answer to everything if you do the math right._

Another gunshot broke the peace.

_Just as the world should be._

That time the deer did die. The bullet went through its eye, straight into the brain. The eyeball burst into a bleeding, jelly mush, and the deer's soft, pink tongue hung loosely from its gaping mouth. Max began to weep at the sight of it. It was dead. There were two holes in the deer's body from where blood spilled, and he had done that. His father tried his best to console him, but it was difficult to make any communication through the choking sobs. He was no longer proud, more annoyed if anything. There would be no more father-son hunting adventures.

But here Max was again about to go hunting, and this time not for deer or other animals. Tonight he will be killing humans. Although his mind was creeping with dread, his companion seemed to be feeling quite the opposite. She remains calm as she walks along the quiet streets, keeping her arm linked with Max's to make sure he cannot escape. "It is a perfectly natural thing," Eloise says. "And easy! You will catch on quickly."

"It is perfectly barbaric," Max mumbles to himself.

Eloise sharply turns her head up towards him. "Barbaric?" she asks, her eyes narrowing in anger. "And humans are not? We only do what we must to survive. Look at humans! Not only do they kill animals, and sometimes for only for the sport of it might I add, but they also kill their fellow humans! How insane is that? Of course there are some vampires that kill eachother, but not nearly as many as humans. Another human is killing practically every second! Bludgeoning, strangling, stabbing, drowning, burning; humans have hundreds of ways of killing! If anything they are the ones who are barbarians!"

"But they do not drink blood."

"Some do. And do you suppose eating flesh is any better?"

"Well, I suppose not-."

"See!' Eloise says, now smiling. "I do apologize for my outburst. I get into the habit of becoming passionate about things. It has been an eventful night; it must be difficult to adjust to all of the changes. But you must face them sooner or later! And this is one is better taken on sooner rather than later. Unless you prefer to starve!"

Max sighs. He knows that she is right; he will have to kill properly soon. Already Max can feel a terrible, primal hunger growing. It is creating a dark pit in his stomach, and he must fill it before it takes over. "Are there any other options?"

"Of course there are! But none of them are any good."

"But what are they?"

"Some prefer to feed on animals," Eloise explains. "Like rats or cattle; whatever is easiest to come by. I cannot see why, though!"

"Why? What is wrong with feeding on animals?"

"Well, the taste, for one, is certainly worse. Rat meat alone tastes rather horrid. Just imagine what their blood tastes like! I would not recommend it, though. Even imagining it makes my skin crawl!"

"And human blood does not?"

Eloise sighs in her dramatic way and shakes her head. "I suppose this is something that you will have to find out for yourself. Which you will very soon!"

She takes Max back to into town, to The Red Door. Eloise quickly pushes past him, before Max has a chance to open the door for her. "Murray!" she calls out as she enters the dingy room. "Murray, where are you, you lazy slug! Murray! Oh, there you are."

The stony faced man slowly turns away from the table he was cleaning to face the girl. He says nothing. "Murray, you honestly should wear brighter clothes; it would make you much more noticeable in this terrible lighting," Eloise says as she walks towards the man. "It would also do wonders for your appearance. You always look so dreadful, it makes me depressed. This is Max, by the way."

Murray regards them, and then grunts as he returns to his previous business. Eloise walks further into the building, motioning Max to follow her. "Pay no attention to Murray," she says. "He is lacking in social skills, if you could not tell. I cannot imagine why anyone would want to turn him. He would be so boring to keep around for so long." She takes a seat at a chipped wooden table and points at the other seat for Max. He follows the order and joins her.

"He's one of, um, us?" Max asks. Eloise nods as she straightens out the skirt of her dress. "He does not appear to be what I imagine what a-." He pauses, and looks around the room to make sure no one is listening. "Vampire," Max continues, dropping the volume of his voice, "to look like."

"Is he too ugly?"

His mouth drops half open in shock. "No! I was not implying that. What I meant-."

"Oh, stop trying to be offended," Eloise says. "It's the truth; we all know it. I doubt Murray would be offended. Not all of us are attractive, you know. Humans tend to make everything romantic. We can be ugly too. We look exactly how we were when we were reborn, and sadly, some were not very blessed with good looks."

"Were you the one who- um," Max begins, struggling to find a proper word.

Eloise stares at him blankly as she gently pats her curls in place. "What? Turn him?"

Max nods.

"Heavens no!" Eloise exclaims a little too loudly. "Do you think I would be that dense?"

"Well, no," Max says. "I was only wondering. Would you happen to know how long he has been. Um."

"About a hundred years or so. I can't remember, but it has not been too long."

"Too long?" he echoes back. "You don't consider that to be a long amount of time?"

"No I don't." Eloise looks around the room. "Goodness, there is not much of a selection here tonight! Only a few drunks- I was hoping for something more challenging."

"What are you talking about?" Max says. He looks around too. There are two men a few tables away. They appear to not be in a stable state. They sit slumped over in their chairs, one coming dangerously close to falling out onto the floor. "You don't mean that we are to-."

"Yes," Eloise sharply cuts in. "I do mean so. These are not my ideal settings for feeding- I only come here if I become desperate and have to pick something off of Murray, but I have to lower my standards tonight for your sake."

"You don't have to. We could do this another day, and you could go out to do your-."

"Nonsense," Eloise interrupts again. She keeps her eyes on the two men, carefully studying them. "There is no better time than the present. This will be easy. Which would you like?"

"Neither."

Eloise sighs. "I hope you won't be the all high and mighty sort. There is nothing wrong with killing humans."

"There is plenty wrong."

"Like what?"

"Well," Max says, slowly. "You are taking someone's life. That isn't fair."

"Humans do that all of the time, and so do animals. It's all a part of nature. I believe we already went over this." Eloise scoots her chair backwards. Max cringes. The wooden legs harshly scrape again the beaten floor, causing a dreadful noise that sounds even worse in his new, sensitive ears. "I am going to go over there and talk to them," Eloise says, her eyes still on the men. "I want you to go down to the basement. The door is rights over there." She points to a door that stands near the bar counter. "Murray lets me use it for these occasions, so he shouldn't question what you are up to."

"Does he know that I'm-."

"Of course he does; it's obvious."

Max considers asking how, but decides against it. Now would not be a good time to upset Eloise.

"I will bring them down there after some sweet talking," she continues. "It shouldn't be hard; they are already drunk. You go hide somewhere out of view and watch. It would probably be wise for you to take notes."

"I don't have any paper."

Eloise glances at him. "Mental notes. I don't expect you will be in the right mind to do much writing." She giggles, though Max fails again to find the humor in her statement. "Now go!"

Max remains at the table as Eloise heads for the other table. She talks to them, giggling like a mad school girl. It reminds Max of the forest, how quickly she fell into hysterics. It does not take long for the two men to become interested in the young, pretty girl. For a moment Max feels repulsed. She is clearly too young for them, but still they drool over her like two starving dogs sitting outside the butcher's, hoping for a scrap of meat. One drunkenly slaps a hand onto her leg and leans dangerously close to her face, causing Eloise to go into another laughing fit. Max scowls. The indecency of it!

Eloise catches Max's eye. She shakes her head and then tilts it towards the direction of the door. He closes his eyes for a moment. The time is now; there will be no more hesitation. Max slowly rises from the table and heads towards the door. He feels as if it is he that is being sentences to death. The two men do not notice the sound of the heavy door shutting. They are too preoccupied with their flirtatious guest.

The basement is not nearly as dark as Max expected it to be. Everything is so shockingly bright that he does believe he will ever get used to this new lifestyle. The basement is even filthier than the upstairs. A massive amount of cobwebs hang above on the beams. The floor is covered with dirt and droppings left behind from what he believes to most likely be rats. There are also large, dark stains on the floor that no one has tried to clean up. Max wonders if they are left over from Eloise's previous victims, and decides that there is a very good chance that they are. A mess of boxes are stacked in the middle of the room, one of them leaking a sticky brown liquid. Max cannot imagine why any man would follow Eloise down here, no matter for what reasons. The appalling smell alone should be enough to drive even the drunkest of men right out of there.

The door creeks open. Max can hear three voices coming from above; Eloise's chirping the highest above the others. "No, down here," she says, nearly begging. "It is much more private and romantic."

"Romantic?" one of the men says. His voice is loud and his words slur together. "Who cares about romance when we're just here to fuck?"

Eloise giggles, but Max can hear that she does not mean it this time. She is barely trying to sound believable now. He watches as they walk down the stairs, the man who had spoken leaning heavily into Eloise. She wears a strained grin as she continues to lead him further into the basement. The second man follows a few steps behind, but then stops to sit down one of the stairs. "You two go ahead," he says, tiredly. "I need a nap."

"Are you sure?" Eloise asks.

"We don't need him," the first man says. Max can see him better now. He is wearing a navy suit made out of thick, scratchy looking material. His hair has been pushed over to one side, and his skin appears to be rather sweaty. Beyond the sweat and the itchy material, Max can smell his blood, and is smells delicious. He can feel the animal-like hunger clawing at his stomach again. It takes all of his patience to hold himself back.

"You're right," Eloise says. "All we need is two!" She notices Max and rolls her eyes as she lets the man fall onto his backside. "I'm going to teach you something."

"Lady, you cannot teach me anything new," the man in navy says. "I know everything there is to know about-."

"Yes," Eloise says, turning her face towards him. She pushes him down so that he is lying on the floor. She climbs on top of him, straddling his midsection. "I'm sure you do."

"Don't you think this will be a lot easier if you take your clothes off?"

Eloise giggles, this time meaning it. "You are an impatient one, aren't you? It will be more fun if you don't rush." She leans forward and places her tiny lips against his. Max cringes as the man grabs a hold of Eloise's hair and aggressively yanks her in closer. He flips her over so that he is the one on top, and she allows him to take over for the time being. Eloise gasps as he begins to push her skirts up. "Be careful," she says quietly. "I haven't done this before."

"The hell you haven't," the man says, chuckling. "I know a whore when I sees one."

"That is incredibly rude." Eloise begins to push him off, and then pauses. She pulls him back down, and kisses his jaw. "How dare you call me such a crude name."

"I juss calls them as I see them." He moans as Eloise moves down to his neck. "There aint' nothing wrong with it, though. I don't got a problem with you being a dirty whore."

Eloise sighs. "You talk too much. It's starting to annoy me." A pair of white fangs pops out. "It's time to be quiet now." She pulls him close to her mouth, and rips into his neck. Max jumps back at the horrible sight. Blood is gushing from the man's throat. His words become lost in crimson gurgles. His arms fly up, and he tries to swipe at Eloise, but only manages to grab a handful of curls. Eloise quickly pulls herself free.

"I would appreciate it if you did not touch my hair," she says. There is blood dripping freely down her chin, a couple of drops landing on the man's face as she speaks. Her eyes are once again glowing in that evil, fiery tint. Even Max feels horror at the harsh and cruel look on her face.

"You bitch," the man manages to get out. "You fucking devil."

Eloise pulls away from and cackles wildly. "Oh, I wish! Just imagine how fun that would be!" She returns to the man's neck, lapping up the blood spilling from the gaping hole she created. "You should drink less," she says between licks. "It makes your blood taste bitter." The man in navy struggles to talk again, but fails. He can now only watch as the small girl continues to drink from him. "See," Eloise says, this time to Max. "I told you it was easy. Would you like to try now?"

Max does not answer, but his silence does not seem to bother Eloise. She continues to drink until there is nothing left of the man. Slowly, she brings herself to her feet and faces Max. A large amount of crimson soaks the front of her dress, causing the fabric to cling to her pale skin. She does not bother to wipe away the blood that continues to drip from her chin. Her breaths are labored, her chests moves in stressed movements, but she appears to be pleased with herself. "Your turn now!"

Max shakes his head.

"Yes," Eloise says. She walks towards the stairs and drags the other man down. He had managed to sleep soundly through his friend's demise. "Try it; it's easy!" She drops the body at Max's feet. Max glances down at him, and knows that he cannot do it. Killing an animal was hard enough; there is no way that he can do the same to a human.

"Max." Her voice sounds annoyed now. Max looks at her. Eloise with her hands on her hips, looking defiant and ready for a fight. He could almost laugh at the sight of the girl. She looked so ridiculously small, but there she was, covered with man's blood and with the devil's eyes. "You will do what your mother says," she threatens.

Max looks back at the man. He is very hungry, and surely it will not be that bad if the man does not wake up, which it is doubtful that he will with all of the alcohol he has consumed. Slowly, Max kneels down towards him and draws close to his neck. He can hear the blood pumping loudly, the heart echoes in his brain. Max's body begins to convulse. He can feel the animal taking over.

"Go on," Eloise encourages. "Go on. Just take a bite; it's no different than biting into an apple."

Two fangs appear, and Max gives in. He bites into the throat. Warm, thick liquid gushes into his mouth. The taste repulses and pleases him beyond words. Max digs in deeper. Just as he begins to enjoy himself, his victim opens his eyes and begins to struggle. Max jumps back, surprised at the other's sudden movement.

"What are you doing? Finish him!"

Max looks at the man. He can see his monstrous reflection in the man's terrified eyes. He does not believe it is himself, he cannot look that horrifying. The man begins to scream. His gurgling cries bounce off the walls, echoing loudly in Max's ears along with the frantic heartbeat. Max has no choice but to finish now, for both of their sake. He dives back down, quickly taking in as much blood as he can. His mind is reeling, and even after the moment had passed and so did his first victim, Max could not get a hold of what he had just done.

"That was lovely!" Eloise cheers. "Don't you think so?"

Max has nothing to say. He lays the limp body on the floor.

"The next time will be better; I promise," the girl continues. She skips around in a giddy manner. "How do you feel? Isn't it the most fantastic feeling?"

He would like to say no, but does not, partially because he does not believe it. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well, it's nearly morning. I suppose we should be getting back-."

"No," Max interrupts. "What about the bodies?"

Eloise pauses. "Oh, don't you worry about those! Murray will take care of them! He always does. We need to get you home."

"Home," Max repeats. He thinks of the reflection he saw. How will he explain this to his son?

"Not your home, of course," Eloise says, quickly. "You cannot go back there now."

"Why?"

"Look at you. You're covered in blood. People will wonder, and no offense, but do you really think they will want you back? Like this?"

Max considers it. Surely his remaining family will not abandon him. There must be some sort of way they could work this out.

"They won't," Eloise says. "Trust me, I know." She extends a hand out for Max to take. "Come now! I will show you to your new home. Our home."

Max looks at the hand and then up at Eloise. She smiles prettily at him; it is hard to believe that this is the same girl who had just ripped open a man's throat. "Our home," he repeats. The words feel strange in his mouth. He has a new home, a new life; it does not feel right, but there is no other place he knows to go. Max takes a hold of the small hand, ready for the girl to lead him into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>It takes me a month to update because I am a loser and slow at updating things. I feel bad for only having one event in this chapter, but after this it should be picking up more! Well, I hope so. Thank you to all of those who have read and reviewed this! Your support does mean a lot to me. It's late. I should go to bed now. <strong>


	4. Chapter Four

Misery Loves Company

Chapter Four

Endings are never easy, and beginnings can be just the same. Sometimes they happen so fast that both experiences blend together, leaving the person suspended in decision. That is where Max is at now; caught in a cross path between the life he had given up and the new one he had chosen. He is caught in the in-between, a monster but still part human, as far as he is concerned. He still has some humanity, Max tells himself, even after he had tasted blood. He can still hold onto it and continue part of his old life. If anyone can pull it off it would be him. As hard as he tried to stay in his own personal limbo, Max's destiny had already been set as soon as he stepped onto the bridge that rainy night. He is being guided down path of immortality by the devil in a dress, and they are traveling at full speed. There is no time for goodbyes; no reason to hold onto the past. But still, Max was not quite ready to let it all good.

"Would you stop looking out the window like that?" Eloise asked as she ran a brush through her long, dark hair. It has been two days since Max's first kill, and the pair had taken refuge in a room in the bar keeper's house. Max had received his very own coffin, and took some convincing to get into it. It was tight and somewhat awkward, but in its own way it became comfortable. Max often set himself in front of the window, gazing out at the world beyond the glass. Even now, just a few days later, he was already forgetting what the morning looked like. Eloise sat in front of a broken down vanity, brushing her hair as she stares into an empty mirror.

"You look terribly pathetic," she continues to say without looking at him. "It's starting to make me depressed.

"I wouldn't want to do that," Max mumbles, mostly to himself.

"You wouldn't." Eloise glances over at him and sighs. "I don't see what you are so down about," she says, running the brush through again. "You got everything you asked for. What more could anyone want?"

"To say goodbye to my family. I never got to do that."

"I thought they were dead."

"Not all of them," Max says. There is an edge to his tone. "I would have liked to see the rest of them."

Eloise fluffs up her hair then the piles it up onto her head in shapeless style. She turns on her stool so that she is fully facing Max. "How do I look?" she asks, grinning.

Max smiles at her mass of hair. She looks much younger without all of her makeup, much more innocent too. It only makes him more scared and mystified by this girl. "Lovely," he replies.

"How about now?" Eloise sucks in her cheeks, mocking a fish.

This time he laughs. "Beautiful! You could be in pictures."

"I could," Eloise says. She releases her hair and smoothes it into its proper state. "That would be a lovely job, wouldn't it? I could sit for hours while some man stares at me, and when he is finished, I can take both his money and his blood! It's a win-win situation."

"I don't see how he wins," Max says with a slight frown.

"I'll let him finish his painting. That will be his reward: his final painting will be of a beautiful girl. What more could a painter ask for?"

"You are quite full of yourself."

Eloise shrugs her thin shoulders and goes back to grooming her hair.

"Don't you ever miss your family?" Max asks.

"No."

"Why not?"

"They're all dead," Eloise answers simply. "And stupid; they were all terribly stupid. They have been stupid and dead for many years now."

"But did you not miss them at first?"

"No," she says again. "Never knew my father, and my mother died when I was young."

"Then who did you live with?"

"My grandmother. She was a dreadful old hag; much easier to deal away with than to live with."

"What do you mean?"

"My first kill," Eloise says, brightly.

Max stares at her, feeling rather shocked. "You killed your grandmother?"

"Of course I did! You would have done the same if you had known her. Just one look at that ugly hag would turn anyone into a murderer! Honestly, she was. You would not believe that any sort of god could create something so horrible."

Max thought back to Eloise in the forest with her fierce eyes and monstrous fangs. He had thought the same.

"Don't look at me like that!" Eloise huffs. "What I did was perfectly natural."

"It's perfectly natural to kill your grandmother?"

"Like I said, you would have done the same thing if you had seen her. I was putting her and everyone who had looked upon her out of misery! I should have been awarded some sort of medal for my bravery!"

Max shakes his head, but cannot resist smiling. "But I love my family," he says. "I did not and do not plan on leaving them."

"Then why did you accept my offer?"

"I-."

"Do you honestly believe that they are going to take you back with open arms?" Eloise asks. Her voice has gone sharp, growing increasingly so with each brush stroke. " Just one look at you in your true form and they will be screaming and running for the nearest stake."

"But they're my family," Max says, desperately.

"They may be family, but they are also human. They will not understand, nor will they want to. Face it, Max. There is no turning back now."

"I have to-."

"You don't." Eloise's tone softens now. "Trust me, you don't want to. It will not end well for anyone. It's best if we all move on with our lives."

Max straightens up, fully prepared to argue. "I have to," he repeats. "This is my family we are talking about. My son; I have to see him one last time. You won't be able to stop me from seeing my son."

"I am your mother and you must do what I say."

"You are not my mother."

"I am too! I gave you life, and that is what a mother does."

"I already have a mother and she is not you."

Eloise rolls her eyes. "You are being incredibly difficult."

"Can you blame me?"

"Yes, and I am."

Max sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair. He is not being the difficult one here. He is perfectly rational; what sort of father would not want to see his family, his whole life one last time? Even if it all was a failure, there must be some sort of closure. "I'm going," he says.

"And what do you suppose you are going to do when you get there?" Eloise asks. "How are you going to explain that Daddy is now a blood sucker? That will be a great father-son moment! I may tag along just to witness it!"

"No," Max says. "You cannot come with."

"You'll need me."

"No I won't."

"You will. Who else is going to prevent you from tearing into your son once you get a whiff of his sweet blood? You are not nearly strong enough to resist it yet."

Max considers this. He knows that Eloise is right. There is no telling what havoc he may unwillingly cause. He will need his guide to keep him on the right path. "Fine," he says, stiffly. "You will come, but it will only be quick. I only want one last look."

Eloise hops up from her stool. "Isn't this exciting? I will finally be able to see your house! Will there be a tour?"

"No."

"Oh, I was only joking! Let's hurry now. We must crush your spirit before the sun rises!"

The closer they come to the house, the more anxious Max feels. Even through the darkness of night, he can make out little details of his home, some that he cannot not recall being able to notice in the day light. It is still fascinating to him, and Max wonders if he will ever be able to adjust to this new level of sight. The clarity of his home, or what had once been his, was so unnatural that Max found it worrisome. It looked to be the same house, but in many ways it was a completely different building. For one, it was in not as good as shape as he previously believed. The yard become long over grown and the shrubbery lining the house could use a good trimming. The yellow paint is starting to peel and crack. Some of the shingles appear to be ready to fall right off of the roof. Max cannot remember it ever looking like that. Could so much has changed in his absence, he wondered. It was not possible; he has only been gone for a few days, not even a week yet. It had been awhile since he has taken a good look at the house, though. Since the loss of his wife and daughter, Max has been lost in his own thoughts and left the housekeeping duties to the servants. It would not be a surprise if they just let the house fall to pieces; people are never willing to do their jobs unless someone is standing over them with a whip.

"So this is where you live," Eloise says. Her eyes scan the house, examining every detail. "And only four people lived in this house? Don't you think that is a waste of space; why would four people need to live in such a large house?"

Max does not reply, and walks towards his old home. He wishes that he did not have to have Eloise tag along. She has proven herself to be quite the nuisance in the passing days. She is like a bird; a small annoying creature that constantly chirps and flaps about in his face. She is high strong and lacking in manners, something that she has no interest of improving. Max can hear Eloise following after him, her soft slippers padding quickly against the grass. He does not try to walk faster, nor does he slow down for her to catch up; he keeps his pace steady. There is a mission that needs to be completed, and it must be done as soon and with as few interruptions as possible.

By the time they reach the front of the house, Max has lost some of his enthusiasm. Perhaps Eloise is right, he says to himself as he quietly walks up the stairs. Perhaps this is not the best of ideas. He stares blankly at the front door, waiting for something to happen, though he is not sure what. All of the lights inside the house are off. Everyone is sleeping soundly in their rooms, and Max does not wish to disturb them. It is a good enough excuse to back out; it would not be kind of him to wake anyone during his final good-bye. Eloise looks from the door, up towards Max.

"Well," she says. "Are we going in or not? I have plenty of other activities that are much more exciting than staring at a door."

"Killing more innocent people?"

"Yes! Now if you don't mind being a gentleman and opening the door, I would like to get this over with so we may move on with ourselves. Go on now! Don't make me do it myself!"

Max shakes his head, but obeys the girl's orders. "You can rip a man's head right off of his body, but cannot open a door," he mumbles to himself as the two step inside the house.

"Vampire or not, I am still a lady and you are still a gentleman. Well, you claim to be one, and it is the man's job to open the door for the lady."

"And what sort of lady gets amusement from tearing open throats?"

Eloise places a gloved hand over her mouth to stifle an oncoming laugh. "Oh, would you get over that already? Now, what did we come here for? I do hope you are not planning on any face to face goodbyes."

"I'm not," Max replies softly. He walks through the parlor, heading towards the stairs with Eloise behind him. The inside of the house has also turned to be quite the mess. A very thin layer of dust covers everything, and the carpet could use a good cleaning. It looks as if all of the help has abandoned the house. Max thought of Marjorie then, and knew that his wife would not be pleased with the state the house is in. She was always on top of cleaning in their house in a way that was nearly obsessive. Everything would be made spotless, or Marjorie would go into a fit until it was up to standard. That was the house he remembers seeing with humans eyes. There is no way to know for sure this is what it had always been like.

If only Marjorie could see this, Max says to himself. If she could have seen what he sees now, the staff would be constantly cleaning.

"Do you mind if I do some exploring," Eloise whispers.

"I do mind."

"I promise that I will not kill anyone."

"No."

Eloise sighs loudly, and scowls when Max places a finger to his lips to silence her. "I don't have to listen to you," she continues to whisper. "I am above you. I am your master, your maker; I can do whatever-."

"If you don't mind, Miss Eloise," Max interrupts. "I would like to collect a few things and leave. Perhaps take a look around one last time, but that is it. Then we can go and you can do your complaining back at Murray's."

"Why must you always be so cynical?"

"I'm not." Max passes his son's room. He looks at the door, but does not dare to touch it. He will do that last, if he manages to summon up the courage to do so. Max moves swiftly to the back of the house where his old bedroom was located. He chooses only a few mementos to take along with him, one being a photograph of his family that had been taken barely a month before the first tragedy struck. For a moment, he leaves Eloise alone in the room, allowing her to further snoop through his belongings, while he slipped into the nursery next door.

Max had not been in this room since the day he had buried his daughter, a fact that he did not realize until he had entered. Time has changed many things, but it has no effect over this room. It is still the same; still pink and frilly, and everything his Suzette had loved. Her stuffed bears continue to sit at the top of her bed, resting against the pillow, waiting for a little girl that will never return. The books Max would read her many times before sleep finally took over neatly sat on white shelf, unread and collecting dust. Everything that had once been Suzette's had not been touched since the funeral. Marjorie would not allow it, and even after her own death no one dared to go against her wishes and stayed as far away as necessary. Max never had a desire to go to this room, not even to peek his head in. If he was not as desperate as he is now, Max would have continued to avoid it.

But there is a task at hand. He must complete while there is still a chance.

Max looks behind him, checking to see if Eloise had followed him in. She had not. He sighs lightly, feeling relieved. The girl can be a nuisance, and Max does not like any sort of thing getting in his way while he is trying to get something done. As he looks around the room, Max cannot decide what he should bring with him. It would have to be something small, something practical that would be easy to carry with him. There are too many precious things to choose from.

In the end, Max makes a rushed decision and grabs the first few things that came to mind. He grabbed a copy of Alice in Wonderland, one of Suzette's favorite stories, off of the shelf. He also searched through her small, ornate jewelry box, and pulled out a golden bracelet with her initials engraved into it. It had been a gift given to Suzette by her parents on what would be her last Christmas. At the time Max had said it was an extravagant present for such a small child, but Marjorie insisted on it.

That would be it; the bracelet and the book. It will be all of Suzette that he will need. Max slips the gold band into his pocket. He takes one last look around the room, trying his best to take it all in and commit every detail into his memory. As he turns to leave, Max is startled to see Eloise standing in the door frame.

"Are you finished?" she whispers.

Max says nothing as he walks past Eloise, and quietly closes the door behind him.

"Is there anything else we need to retrieve?"

"No."

No, there is nothing else Max wants other than to leave this house. He no longer wants to look at his son one last time, knowing that it will be far too painful. The only thing left to do now is to leave, and though he was feeling more than ready to leave, a part of him still wanted to stay. The night is coming to an end, and they can stay no longer. As they silently walk across the lawn, Max looks over his shoulder back at the home he had put so much time and effort into building. That life is gone now; fading just as quickly as the night was turning into day.

"How do you suppose you are ever going to move forward with your life when you keep looking back over your shoulder?" Eloise asks. "You are going to end up tripping over yourself."

Max glances at her. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No!" Eloise exclaims as she skips forward a few steps. "You have no other choice other than to move on and get out of here. A new town would do you good. Perhaps a city; there is a better selection of food there."

"We're leaving?"

"Of course! Did you think that you could stay in this dreary town forever? There are far too many people that may recognize you, and I would imagine that is something you would like to avoid," she says. "I don't like staying in one place too long, anyhow. It gets to be terribly boring."

Max looks back at the house again. Could he leave it all forever, he wonders. Is it even possible? He reaches inside of his pocket and gently fingers the smooth surface of the golden bracelet. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow night."

Leaving had not been as difficult as Max first anticipated. Being constantly on the move, it was hard for one to get proper time to mourn the loss of an old life. Eloise was restless, never staying in one town too long. She would quickly become bored with their selection of prey, or insist on moving on once people began to take notice of the growing number of sudden deaths or disappearances. Max found her unquenchable thirst for blood disturbing, but soon found himself following in her footsteps. The need for blood was undeniably strong; there was no way to avoid it.

_It's only natural,_ as Eloise would tell him time and again.

It is hunting. It is survival. It is a sport. It is their life. Max can now recognize this, and Eloise made it much easier for him. It became a game, this new life of his, and Max can honestly say that he enjoys it. Selecting a victim for the night was always a rush, even more so than the actual killing. It was the hunt that he enjoyed; all of his hard work going towards one goal that he could always fulfill.

They stroll through the streets at night, sometimes traveling together. When they did, Max would sometimes catch men eyeing his small companion, some occasionally giving him a look of both approval of envy. Those were the sort of men that Max would often go after first, the ones he considered to be low life perverts; the world would be fine without them. The relationship between the pair was far from what those men assumed, and though it amused Eloise to no end, Max found it disturbing. Most people would assume they were a father and daughter out for an evening walk. He can hear their whispers as they pass, chirping over how lovely they are. Eloise is also pleased with this.

"Imagine me being your daughter," she says one night as they walk through the streets, searching for their night's victims.

"If you were my daughter," Max begins to reply. "You would certainly not be acting the way you do now."

Eloise scowls. "And what is wrong with the way I act?"

"Your lack of manners for one-."

"Oh, manners; they never get you anywhere!"

"Every girl ought to learn how to behave properly."

"I am over three hundred years old. I believe I should be able to behave however I like!"

"With all of that extra time in your life," Max says, "you should have been able to pick up on some manners by now. Didn't your mother ever teach you anything?"

"Of course not. My mother was too stupid to be a real mother. And then she was too dead to be one too. You cannot learn anything from someone that is stupid and dead."

"Perhaps that is what you need then."

"What?"

"A mother," Max says. "A real one. It would do you wonders."

Eloise chews on the thought. "I don't know," she says, slowly. "A mother would try to get in my way, and I already you have doing that enough."

"How do I get in your way? You always end up getting what you want."

"I know, but it is such a long process. I get so tired of hearing your opinion and then pretending to care about it. And you are such a bore to argue with!"

"But haven't you ever wanted a mother?" Max asks, steering the conversation back to the original topic.

"Not particularly."

"We could have a whole family," Max says, now mostly talking to himself.

"No thank you. I think we make a perfectly fine family already."

"But with just the two of us? Don't you think it will become lonely?"

"No, I do not think so," Eloise says stiffly. "I don't think we need any people in our company, especially not any more people who think they can boss me around. Are you forgetting that I am the one in charge here? I am older than you, and I am your mother. We don't need another one."

"Of course," Max replies.

But "of course" is not what he was thinking. Already, Max is beginning to work out a plan. He could regain everything he had lost- his family, his wealth- now that he has more time. It would be much easier now, if only he could get Eloise on his side. It would not be too difficult once he found a woman that would mesh well with them. Max scopes the area, searching for a potential wife. Looks would not be as big of a factor as it had been when he married Marjorie. He learned the hard way that beauty was not as important as brains. He would need a woman that could handle children, someone that was good with discipline since that is, in his opinion, what Eloise is in need of. She would also need to be kind and patient, more so than the norm so that she may be able to tolerate Eloise better. It would not be that difficult, Max told himself. There has to be someone like that out here.

* * *

><p><strong>I was going to make this longer, especially since it takes me forever to update, but this feels like the right spot to stop. I know this is going terribly slow, but I promise that it will get better! Or at least I hope so. Thank you again to all that read and review!<strong>


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